Fly to Her
by phoenix-dogs
Summary: AU: after Godot is released from prison, he becomes addicted to drugs. Contains drug use and suicide, please read at your own discretion.


His ears were thrumming, he felt the blood rushing through loudly and the beating of his old heart overpowered even the loud dance music spewing from the other room. The dealer had left just a few moments ago with cash Godot had handed over for a lovely little stash of cocaine. Cocaine made Godot feel like superman, pulsing with the ability to go out and ignore the looks from mothers turning their children away and cashiers' wondering eyes. Cocaine made him feel like he could do _anything. _And he'd only had a sample, a small taste, but he felt _so good_ right now. He could do anything, really.

Including call Wright and tell him off for being such an ass. But first, a drink. Exiting from the private room and into the main dance club floor, he made his way through the crowd, pushing people left and right to get through. Maybe a few people objected, he felt skin more than once, but he was focused forward, to the bar. A few glasses of heavy alcohol were just what he needed.

Sitting down, the bartender stopped washing glasses and came over to stand in front of Godot. His hair was short-cropped, a dark brown, with pale skin and freckles glowing like stars in the flashing lights. A tribal tattoo peeked from the bottom of a tight sleeve on a muscular arm. With a smirk, Godot said, "I'll have two glasses of Jack Daniel's, son."

The bartender nodded once and stooped down to grab two glasses, clinking against the scratched surface of the wood. Once the glasses had alcohol in them, Godot immediately downed one, the bitterness burning a path down to his stomach. Icy limbs and hot burning stomach combined felt good, it felt _really _good, and he set the glass down with a thud. After a moment of looking around the dance floor, looking at all of those young people, he thought to himself, _I missed this period of my life. But it still feels so good._

Another glass of Jack's down and he laid a twenty on the counter and bounced out of the front, feeling a light dizziness that came with the complete dominance his beating heart now had in his ears. It was a clear night, the stars above twinkling, if Godot stared hard enough, he could maybe catch one go out. His tennis shoes squeaked as he walked around the corner of the building and into a dark alley.

All around he saw bright shining lights, the stars falling down to earth. He wondered if maybe it was Mia trying to find him. Sweating in the cold night air, he whipped out his cellphone and dialed Wright's number. It beeped, it beeped for what seemed like ten minutes, until finally he picked up, and Godot knew this had been ill planned and was now unsure of exactly what it was he was going to say.

"Hello? Godot?" Phoenix sounded so confused. What a dumbass.

"Hey, Wright. Uh…" Godot paused unceremoniously, thinking of what to do or say now. "So, what's up?"

The other end was silent for a minute until Phoenix sighed a long sigh and replied, annoyed, "Godot, it's almost midnight. Do you need something or not?"

"Uh…" Godot's eyes followed the falling lights. It was magnificent. Glancing up, the stars continued to twinkle and twinkle. "I was wondering if you'd gotten your license?"

"Are you alright, Godot?"

Godot grimaced. He wasn't sure whether the voice on the other end was feigning concern or not. "I don't know, Wright. You tell me." A small giggle alighted his end before he could stop himself. Just, the idea of Phoenix Wright being concerned for anyone was so stupendously ridiculous to him.

"God dammit, Godot, have you been using again?"

"No!" Godot _couldn't_ go back to rehab. As the panic swept over the part of his brain that wasn't iced over, he stammered out, "N-n-no I haven't! Why do you think I would, huh, Wright? Maybe _you've_ been using cause only users think other people are using!"

"Godot, where are you?"

"None of your business!"

"_Godot._"

Godot grimaced again. The lines on his face felt like canyons in his skin, time wearing away at the man he used to be. The falling lights had become hellfire raining down on Godot and he took off his mask so as not to see it.

Wright was still on the other end of the line, saying, "Godot, where are you? I'll come and pick you up. Godot, please, I just want to help you!"

Eventually, Godot snapped back, "Yeah, you've been a huge fucking help, Wright." Godot wanted to shut the phone and end the conversation but he couldn't find it within himself. "As if I even know where I am. I just know it's a dance club. Uh…" He used his thumb and forefinger to rub his eyes before he stuck the mask back on. "I don't know."

"Hand the phone over to someone. Someone sober."

Godot rubbed the bottom of his nose and giggled again. "I came from the depths of hell to be confronted by some rookie attorney, telling me what does and doesn't hurt?" He laughed outright. He spat out, "As if you had any experience with _pain!_ You lost Mia, Trite! _You lost her!_"

A ragged breath came out of the prosecutor, realizing that he'd been yelling. He could control himself, couldn't he? People were staring, the bouncer was looking over, a mean old ogre of a green pallor, ten feet tall. Godot wiped the sweat from his chin as he took another breath.

"We all lost Mia, Godot," Wright finally replied. Godot felt his head begin to get heavy again. How much time had passed? Was he really coming down? Or maybe the effects had become dilute? It scared him almost as much as Wright telling him, "Stay where you are. I'll get you home." There was a click and Wright was no longer there. Godot had never felt so alone.

He staggered against the alley wall, shutting his phone and pulling the baggie with the rest of his cocaine out with trembling hands. Glancing up at the fire escape above him, he knew what he had to do. He'd need the whole bag to do it, but it made him into a god, didn't it? Godot could do it.

Jumping up, he pulled down the ladder and climbed. His limbs burned, but he could medicate himself again once he got to the roof. _That_ wasn't the hard part. He just hoped her star hadn't twinkled out before he got to fly away with her.

With a final push, he heaved himself up onto the rooftop, landing on his back. After a second of catching his breath, he looked up to find a young couple staring at him oddly. One boy pulled away from the other, and Godot thought he'd never seen such smooth dark skin on a young man. The boy, concern written on his face, asked, "Sir, are you alright?"

Godot just sat gathering his breath. The boy's lover, an asian boy, hissed, "Adam! Should we take that thing off his face?"

Adam replied, "Naw, my aunt had to get one a few years ago. It helps him see." He turned back to Godot, who was staring at the two boys with complete wonder. "Sir, are you trying to escape someone? Can we help you?"

Godot felt how heavy the baggie was in his pocket, and he struggled to his feet, saying, "I just need you two to find somewhere else to go about things. It won't work if someone's watching."

Adam and his boyfriend looked at each other, then the boyfriend asked, "What won't work?"

"I'm going to fly to her. I can't go back to rehab. If I fly to her they can't get me and I won't need the drugs anymore." It was so matter-of-fact as it rolled off his tongue. He was ready. Fingers trembling, the heat returning to their tips, he pulled out the baggie he'd purchased maybe an hour ago. He opened it carefully, ignoring the questions from the two boys until Adam pulled out his cellphone and began dialing 911.

Godot panicked, setting the baggie down carefully so that none would spill, and tackling the boy and pummeling him until he was unconscious. The asian boy had tried his best to pull Godot off but when he was done with Adam, Godot elbowed the boy in the face. Grabbing at his face, he screeched. Godot had broken his nose, the blood dripping onto the concrete surface of the roof. One swift kick to the stomach and the boy lost his wind, falling unconscious as well. Adam's cellphone was buzzing, a small voice saying, "Hello? Hello?" on the other end. Godot crushed it beneath his shoe.

Picking up where he'd been, Godot retrieved the baggie and began doing everything he could to get the lovely white powder into his system - snorting, swallowing, rubbing it on his gums, everything he could think of. By the time he was done, Godot was buzzing. He couldn't stop laughing, not even as he stood at the edge of the roof, facing the street. He saw the people in line down below, figures of smoke that danced in the wind, maybe just figments of his imagination. Voices bellowed like waves on the ocean, all he could hear was, "Fly to her, fly to her, fly to her," whispering into his ears.

It was the moment. Like a spring pressed down for years now, Godot was full of tension, and he was ready, he was ready to go to her. He was ready to go to Mia, he would fly to her and be with her in heaven. He was ready now.

He walked back a few paces, eyeing Adam and his boyfriend, who had also become shadow figures. Tripping over his own feet, he stumbled, and the mask flew off of his face. He was scared of the darkness that gripped him, and as he felt around, he finally touched his mask and put it back on, shaken. Standing up, a thought occurred: he didn't need the mask to see Mia, not in heaven. Nobody was blind or cut up or sad in heaven. So why should he take it with him? He dropped it beside Adam, the moment having come.

Running at a breakneck pace, he was ready, he was so ready, he was ready to fly to her. The wind in his hair, it felt so freeing. His body instinctively felt a shock when there was no longer roof to step onto, but Godot knew he was going to be free, _free-_

* * *

Phoenix's eyes widened when he saw the flashing lights. Stopping the car on the curb, he barely remembered to lock it as he saw Detective Gumshoe questioning two boys, a black kid with an ice pack on his head and a swelling eye and an asian kid with dried blood on his face.

A police officer with tired eyes stopped Phoenix, saying, "Sir, you can't be here."

Phoenix screamed at him, "What happened? _What happened!?_"

Gumshoe turned around and Phoenix saw that he looked the oldest he'd ever seen him. Gumshoe told the officer, "It's alright, he can come in." Turning to face the two boys, he said, "I'll be back to ask some more questions in a little bit. For now, go rest and take care of yourselves."

As the two boys strode off in the direction of an ambulance parked at the curb in front of the empty dance club with lights continuing to flash but music off, Phoenix approached Gumshoe. Without a word, Phoenix knew it was something terrible. He asked quietly, "What happened, Gumshoe?"

Gumshoe's features became heavier as he replied, "Prosecutor Godot. It's looking like suicide."

The two became quiet for a spell as Phoenix's eyes became unfocused. He could have done more, couldn't he? All the times they'd gone up together in court, him going to jail, when he got out and started using, he could've done more. Finally, he asked, "Can I see him?"

Gumshoe nodded. They silently made their way to where Godot had landed, and Phoenix felt sick just looking at him. His limbs were twisted in ways they shouldn't have been, blood was _everywhere_, and he saw cocaine all over the body. Gumshoe sighed. "The autopsy report will make completely sure, but for right now I think it's safe to assume he had cocaine in his system. Traces were found on his hands and the inside of his nose. The kids I was talking to were up on the roof when they said he climbed up the fire escape. Had a whole bag of cocaine, talked about flying to someone. They tried to call the police when he assaulted both of them. Bartender says he remembers him grabbing a few drinks before heading outside, too. The empty bag and his mask were up on the roof." Gumshoe bit the inside of his cheek before saying, "You see a lot of nasty stuff on this job, but this just isn't fair, pal."

Phoenix took one last good look at Godot, his body seeming like some beat-up ragdoll someone dropped on the ground, before turning away. "Was there a note?"

Gumshoe followed suit, shaking his head. "No, not that we've found. What I want to know is how you knew to come out here?"

"He called me earlier tonight. Sounded like he was using. Got angry at me about Mia again. Told me he was at a dance club so I went out trying to find him to take him home." He swallowed back a lump in his throat before saying, "He always made me wonder if I really was responsible, even though he admitted he was just angry at himself during his trial. Mia said I freed him, but did I really?" Phoenix shook his head. "I don't know anymore."

Gumshoe nodded. "Well, you've got people to take care of now, unlike back then. Get on home to Trucy if you want. Grief counselors are available at the station."

Phoenix nodded. "Thanks, Detective."

Gumshoe put his hand on Phoenix's shoulder. "No problem, pal. Don't let people forget him, huh? I know I won't."

Phoenix nodded. "Yeah." As he walked back to his car, he knew he wasn't going to be getting much sleep tonight, so why not grab a cup of coffee?


End file.
